Asha found her mother's brother, Lord Rodrik Harlaw, hunched over a table by a window. He was in the Book Tower of Ten Towers, surrounded by parchment scrolls, so old, they could have come from Valyria before the Doom. Enormous candles made from beeswax, burned on either side of him. He was a man who had a passion for written words, one which frowned upon by most Ironborn. It was deemed unmanly and perverse.
"Uncle." She closed the door behind her. "What words were so urgent for you to leave your guests unattended?"
"Archmaester Marwyn's Book of Lost Books." He lifted his gaze from the page and tapped the book he was reading. "See here? Marwyn claims to have found three pages of Signs and Portents, visions written by Daenys the Dreamer, the daughter of Aenar Targaryen before the Doom came to Valyria. Does Lanny know you are here?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Not yet. Let her rest." Asha moved a stack of books from a chair and sat.
Lord Rodrik glanced out the window at the moonlit sea. "Dark, so soon? I had not noticed. You are late. We expected you some days ago."
"We set sail from the Stony Shore as soon as we heard. The winds were against us."
"How was the Stony Shore?"
"Empty. I suspect the people had been warned of our party."
"You came back too late."
"Late and hungry." She stretched her legs out beneath the table and turned the pages of the nearest book without reading a word. "Oh, and thirsty too. A horn of ale would go down well."
Lord Rodrik pursed his lips. "You know I do not permit food nor drink in my library." Asha rolled her eyes. Her uncle frowned. "You like to provoke me."
"I have never met a man I didn't provoke. But you should know that by now. Anyhow, enough of me. Are you well?"
"Well enough, I suppose. My eyes have weakened. I ordered a lens from Myr to help me read."
Asha had had enough of the chitchat. She closed the book with a thump. "Was my father murdered?"
"So your mother believes."
"And what do you believe?"
"Your mother had a bird from Maester Wendamyr. It claimed Balon fell to his death when a rope bridge broke beneath him during a storm. A raven came for you a sennight past." He handed her a scroll, which she slid into a pocket.
Asha pulled her dirk from its sheath and used it to clean the dirt from her fingernails. "Missing for three years, and the Crow's Eye returns the very day my father dies."
"The Silence was still out to sea when Balon died. It is said he returned the following day. Even so, I will agree that Euron's return was … timely, shall we say?"
"That is not what I'd call it." Asha slammed the point of the dirk into the table and leaned towards her uncle. "Where are my ships? I counted forty longships moored below, not enough to remove the Crow's Eye off from father's chair."
"I sent the summons. Houses Harlaw, Stonetree and Volmark have gathered. Some Myres …"
"All from Harlaw … one isle out of seven. I saw one Botley banner from Pyke. Where are the ships from Saltcliffe, Orkwood and the Wyks?"
"Baelor Blacktyde came from Blacktyde and quickly set sail again. He is on Old Wyk by now."
"Old Wyk?" Asha had feared he was about to say that they all had gone to Pyke for the Crow's Eye. "Why Old Wyk?"
"I thought you had heard. The Damphair has called a Kingsmoot."
Asha threw back her head and laughed. "The Drowned God must have shoved a pricklefish up Uncle Aeron's arse. A Kingsmoot? Is this a jape, or does he mean it?"
"The Damphair has not japed since he was drowned. The other priests have too taken up the call. Blind Beron Blacktyde, Tarle the Thrice-Drowned … even Old Grey Gull has left his rock to preach this Kingsmoot all across Harlaw. The captains gather on Old Wyk as we speak."
Asha was stunned. "Has the Crow's Eye agreed to this holy farce and abide by its decision?"
"The Crow's Eye confides nothing to me. Since he summoned me to Pyke to pay him homage, which I refused, I have had no word from Euron."
A Kingsmoot. This is new … or rather, an ancient tradition. "And my uncle Victarion? What does he make of the Damphair's desire?"
"Victarion knows of your father's death. No doubt he knows of the Kingsmoot too. Beyond that, I cannot say."
Better a Kingsmoot than a war, Asha resolved. "I suppose I'll have to kiss the Damphair's smelly feet and pluck the seaweed from out between his toes." Asha grimaced as she wrenched her dirk from the table and sheathed it once again. "A bloody Kingsmoot!"
"On Old Wyk," confirmed Lord Rodrik. "Though I pray not bloody. I have been reading Haereg's History of the Ironborn. During the last Kingsmoot, Urron of Orkmont let his axemen loose and Nagga's ribs turned red with gore. House Greyiron ruled unchosen for a thousand years from that dark day until the Andals came."
"You must lend me that book, uncle." She needed to learn all she could of kingsmoots before reaching Old Wyk.
"You may read it here. It is old and fragile. Archmaester Rigney once wrote that history is a wheel. What has happened before will happen again. I think of that whenever I contemplate the Crow's Eye. Euron Greyjoy sounds like Urron Greyiron to these old ears. I shall not venture to Old Wyk. Nor should you."
"And miss the first Kingsmoot called in … how long has it been, uncle?"
"Four thousand years, if what Haereg says is true. Half that, if Maester Denestan is to be believed. Going to Old Wyk serves no purpose. This dream of kingship is madness. I told your father the first time he rose, and it is as true now as it was then. It's land we need, not crowns. Stannis Baratheon might be dead, but something is brewing in the North. If Ned Stark is vying for the Iron Throne, we could improve our lot. Let us take one side or the other, help them to victory with our fleets, and claim the lands we need from a grateful king."
"That might be worth some thought once I sit the Seastone Chair. Although I cannot imagine Ned Stark wishing to fight for the Iron Throne," said Asha. Her uncle sighed.
"You may not want to hear this, Asha, but you will not be chosen. No woman has ever ruled the Ironborn. You are Balon's daughter, not his son. And you have three uncles."
"Four."
"Three kraken uncles. I do not count."
"You do to me. So long as my uncle of Ten Towers lives, I have Harlaw."
Harlaw was not the largest of the Iron Islands, but it was the richest and most populous, and Lord Rodrik's power was not to be underestimated.
"My cousins do me fealty, and in war I should command their swords and sails. In Kingsmoot, though …" Lord Rodrik shook his head. "Some may shout your name, of that I have no doubt. But not enough. When the shouts ring out for Victarion or Euron, some of those now drinking in my hall will join them. I say again, do not sail into this storm."
"But I have the best claim. I am the heir of Balon's body."
"They will not accept a woman to lead them. Think of your poor mother. You are all that Lanny has left. I will put a torch to Black Wind if need be, to keep you here."
"What, and make me swim to Old Wyk?"
"A cold swim, for a crown you cannot keep. Your father was proud, but deluded. The Old Way served when we were a small kingdom amongst many, but Aegon put an end to that. The Old Way died with Black Harren and his sons."
"I know that." Asha had loved her father, but she wouldn't lie to herself. Balon had been blinded by power. "Does that mean we must be servants of the Iron Throne? If there are rocks to starboard and a storm to port, a wise captain steers a third course."
"Show me this third course."
"I shall … at my queensmoot. Uncle, how can you even consider not attending? This will be history, alive …"
"I prefer my history dead. Dead history is writ in ink, the living sort in blood."
"Do you want to die old and craven in your bed?"
"Only when I'm done reading." Lord Rodrik went to the window. "You have not asked about your mother."
Asha did not want to admit her fear. "How is she?"
"Stronger. She may yet outlive us all. She will certainly outlive you, if you persist in this folly. She eats more than she did when she first came here, and oft sleeps through the night."
"Good. I will see her in the morning."
"She will ask for word of Theon."
"What have you told her?"
"Little and less. There was naught to tell." He hesitated. "Read your letter. It came from Winterfell."
Asha pulled the letter from her jacket and popped open the grey wax seal with the direwolf sigil.
Asha
Word of the Kingsmoot has reached me. I hear Uncle Euron killed our father.
I have no interest in the Seastone Chair. My duties and life lie elsewhere, as I believe does yours. You have my support, but I fear it is not the loyalty of your men, I can assure you dear sister, they will prefer a man to lead them.
If they will not accept you, then I expect the Kingsmoot to be between Victarion and Euron. Uncle Euron will win the Seastone Chair as he can promise Ironborn more than you or Victarion. If my theory is correct, war will soon be declared and you will no longer be safe.
Word will soon get out of a dragon prince returned. I know this to be true as I know him personally. If Euron wins the Kingsmoot, you and your followers will be offered refuge should you need it. He has assured me he will offer you safety, and eventually the chance to exact revenge on him.
The dragon prince has plans which I am certain you will find of great interest.
I hope you will consider the offer.
Just one more thing. By the time you receive this letter, I will be a married man. Her name is Ygritte, and she is one of the Free Folk (wildlings) and is as fierce as they come. I believe you would both get along famously.
Theon
Asha threw the letter on the table. Theon had betrayed her for the Starks, just as her father feared. Rodrik picked up the letter and read through it. As he came to the end of the letter, he raised an eyebrow. "A dragon Prince." He passed the letter to Asha. "So that is what Ned Stark is up to. Supporting a Targaryen. Well, well. Isn't this a strange turn of events."
"Not as strange as a Kingsmoot."
"At least you can tell your mother Theon is working for a Targaryen Prince."
"I think she'd prefer to hear he is dead than finding out he is working for a Targaryen and has married a wildling, of all people."
"It sounds like he has taken a spearwife. A type of woman most like yourself. Sounds like the boy has taste," he said as he fastened the shutters. "Do not go to Old Wyk, Asha. Stay with your mother. We shall not have her long, I fear."
Asha shifted in her seat. "My mother raised me to be bold. If I do not go, I will spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I had."
"If you go, the rest of your life may be too short for wondering."
"Better that than spending the rest of my days complaining that the Seastone Chair by rights was mine."
"Asha, my two tall sons fed the crabs of Fair Isle. I am not like to wed again. Stay, and I shall name you heir to the Ten Towers. Be content with that."
"Ten Towers?" Would that I could. "Your cousins will not like that."
"They have lands and seats of their own. Leave the fight be between Victarion and Crow's Eye. It is not safe. Listen to your brother. Head to Winterfell and find out what they offer you."
"I can protect myself. Nuncle, I am a kraken. Asha, of House Greyjoy." She pushed to her feet. "It's my father's seat I want, not yours."
"Go then. I wish to return to Archmaester Marwyn and his search."
"Let me know if he should find another page." Her uncle was her uncle. He would never change. But he would accompany her to Old Wyk, no matter what he said. Asha snatched the letter and stuffed it back into her pocket and left the room.
By now, her crew were feasting in the hall. Asha knew she ought to join them, to speak of this gathering on Old Wyk and what it meant for them. Her own men would be solidly behind her, but she would need the rest as well, her Harlaw cousins, the Volmarks, and the Stonetrees. Those are the ones I must win.
The crew of her Black Wind took a perverse pride in the deeds of their woman captain. Half of them loved her like a daughter, and other half wanted to spread her legs, but either sort would die for her. And I for them, she thought.
She meant to turn right to the hall, to join her crew men. Instead, she veered left and up the stairs towards her mother's room.
⸺⸺⸺◊◊◊⸺⸺⸺
Lady Alannys was a frail and sickly woman. Yet, she had outlived her husband Lord Balon, who had seemed so hard and strong. Whenever Asha sailed away on a raiding party, she did so, fearing her mother would die before she returned.
The last time Asha saw her mother was when she stopped at Ten Towers to take on fresh water, en route to strike at the villages along the Stony Shore. Back then, Asha had found her mother sat in a window seat huddled under a pile of furs, staring out across the sea.
When Asha opened the door to her mother's room, little had changed. Age held its grip on Lady Alannys. With it came skin as thin as parchment, and long hair, now snow white. Her eyes were dimmed and clouded; and her mouth trembled when she spoke.
Asha knew the questions would be the same as they always were. She always asked the whereabouts of Theon, but today the answers would differ.
"Did you bring my baby boy?"
As usual, it was the first thing Lady Alannys asked as Asha made her way over to the window seat where her mother sat. It was the same question every time Asha visited her mother.
Theon had been ten years old when he was taken to Winterfell as a hostage, and so far as Lady Alannys was concerned he would remain ten years old, until she saw him again. Every time she visited her mother, she had no answer to give her of how her baby brother was faring. Today was different.
"Theon could not come. But he wrote a letter. Would you like me to read it to you?"
The corners of her mother's eyes crinkled as she smiled and nodded.
"I hope Lord Stark has allowed him to continue with his letters. His writing has always been poor. Is it easily read? My sight is poor these days."
Theon's penmanship had vastly improved under the tutelage of the Starks. He had been poor at writing as a child, but his writing was neat, if this was penned by the hand of her brother and not the Maester.
"His writing is much improved, mother."
Asha pulled the letter from her doublet before reading out the contents of the letter.
Tears ran down Lady Alannys' eyes when Asha got to the part about Theon being wed. She knew her mother was unhappy to hear her ten-year-old son had married a wildling.
"He is much too young to be wed. And to a wildling. What is Lord Stark thinking?" Asha had been right in her assessment of her mother's reaction.
"Theon is no longer a child, mother. He is a man grown."
"And what of this dragon Prince? Who is he?"
Asha knew as much as her mother.
"This is the first I've heard of any dragon Prince. There are rumours of a dragon Queen in the east. They say she has three dragons."
"Pfft. Absolute poppycock. Dragons died out a hundred and fifty years ago. The last of the Targaryens died with the Mad King ten years past. There are no such things as dragons!"
"Maybe there was a secret Prince," Asha suggested.
"You think Rhaegar Targaryen was shoving his cock in every whore in Kings Landing? No, that wasn't him. The only one he cared about was the wolf bitch, Lyanna. If he got her pregnant, how do we not know about this so-called Prince? Who raised him?"
A realisation dawned upon Asha. Lord Stark had claimed his bastard son was his nephew, the son of Brandon Stark. Could he be Lyanna's son? It was something she would need to consider. Asha needed to know all the news surrounding the North to decide, not that it would influence her attempt to secure the Seastone Chair.
"It remains to be seen, mother."
"Go, see your brother. Bring him home. Stay away from the Crow's Eye. Theon is right. The man is mad and dangerous."
"I have to secure father's throne."
Her mother took her hand and squeezed it. "If you lose, will you do as your brother asks? Will you go to him?"
"Mother, I do not need protecting," Asha sighed.
"Maybe not. But Theon does. He has little experience of the world, and Euron will be certain to make an attempt on his life. Like it or not, Theon poses a greater threat to your uncle than you or Victarion."
Asha knew there was no malice in her mother's words. In the past hour, she'd heard the same three views from different people. They all claimed she wouldn't win the Kingsmoot. What none of them appreciated, was she was of no use to anyone if she didn't try. By backing down, she would lose the credibility of her crew. If Asha was to look out for Theon, she had no choice but to stand. As long as she put herself forward, win or lose, she still had her pride and her crew. Either way, she would be able to look out for little Theon under both circumstances.
"I will stand for the Kingsmoot, mother. But I promise I will ensure Theon's safety and bring him to visit you," Asha assured her mother. Although she hoped she wouldn't have to take her mother to Winterfell. Should she lose the Kingsmoot, Theon's life might not be the only one in danger.